


The Walking 'Federates

by hooey



Category: Squidbillies, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Confederate Zombies, Crack Relationships, Daddy Issues, Drunk Driving, Excessive Drinking, Fat fetish, Foot Fetish, Georgia, Gun Violence, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Sex, Methamphetamine, Multi, Parody, Perversion, Squid Sex, Squidbillies - Freeform, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, The Author Regrets Nothing, Zombie Apocalypse, toe sucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooey/pseuds/hooey
Summary: When the undead grey-coats start a risin', the state of Georgia goes to shit as the zombified cadavers of confederate soldiers take over Dougal County. While folks struggle to survive, Early spends the rest of his short life getting drunk and fighting his own shadow.
Relationships: Early Cuyler|Tammi's toes, Granny Cuyler|Dewey Duvall, Granny Cuyler|Literally anyone, Lil Cuyler|Sheriff, Tammi|Deputy Denny, Tammi|Rusty Cuyler
Kudos: 2





	The Walking 'Federates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [squid jesus](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=squid+jesus).



> At last, street cred is mine!

_Dougal County, GA_

_A sheriff and a deputy sit idly in a parked patrol car._

"I just don't get it, Denny!", the sheriff shrugged at his partner. 

The deputy had a puzzled look on his face, "What's not to get?"

“If pee comes from the testicles, then how on earth do women pee? It just doesn’t make any sense.”, the sheriff grazed his forehead with his hand.

“Out their buttholes. Duh. It’s just science, man.”, the deputy rolled his eyes, resting his feet up on the dash.

“So does that mean pee is actually stored in the butthole?”, the sheriff raised an eyebrow.

“If yous a woman, yes”, the deputy tapped some ash off his cigarette.

“Ain’t milk stored in the butt, though? And I coulda sworn women peed out their...out the other part.”

“Out their ‘ginas? That’s crazy talk, man”, Denny shook his head, “Everybody knows that pee is stored in the balls, and stored in the butthole if yous a lady. How many times I gotta remind ya?”

“I know, I know. Sorry I bug you about it so much. You’re just so experienced with the ladies, heh, I don’t know who else to ask.”

The deputy sighed, taking another hit from his cigarette.

The sheriff cleared his throat, “Ahem, so, uh...how do _squids_ pee?”

Denny scowled, about to call the sheriff an expletive before he was cut off by the sound of gunshots in the distance.

“That must be Early. Quick, Denny, put on the siren!”, the sheriff shifted gears, and hauled off towards the source of the blasts.

The police car wailed, speeding down main street and skidding to a halt in front of Boyd’s convenience store. Early’s drunken threats could be heard from the outside, popping off rounds as he brandished his sawed-off shotgun. 

“I done told you, sumbitch! Gimme one them Kenny Rogers live concert vidya tape playin’ machines before I shoot’cha damn head off!”, the squid yelled, motioning his shotgun to the DVD players stacked atop one of the shelves.

The elderly shopkeeper trembled behind the counter. “A-Alright Early, just- just tell me which color you want it in. See we’ve got, uh, let’s see here…”, Boyd turned to the shelf, seeing which colors they had, “We’ve got ‘em in, uh, pink, bl-”

“PINK?! What’chu tryna say, Boyd? You implifying that I’m sum sorta hom-er-sexual? Is that it? Cause I’ll shoot’chu right now god dammit!”

The shopkeeper squeezed his eyes shut and winced in fear, “No! No! N-Not at all, Early! I-I didn’t mean n-”.

The sheriff moseyed into the store ready to arrest Early, cuffs in hand. Upon stepping through the door, Early swung around, now pointing the firearm at the sheriff.

“Come on, Early”, the sheriff held up the handcuffs, “You know the drill-” 

A blast went off. Early had shot the sheriff, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of his torso. 

  
  


Everything went black for the sheriff. The next thing he knew, he was wired up to one of the clinic beds, waking up from a brief coma.

He glanced around the empty room.

“Hell-Hello? Doctor?”

A vase sitting on the bedside table caught his eye. A bouquet of wilted flowers. The attached card read as follows:

_Get well soon!_

_< 3 Denny_

The sheriff smiled. 

“Aw, thank you Denny, heh heh h-AUGH!”

He coughed for a minute, and attempted to get out of the bed. His legs wobbled, and he instantly collapsed. His IV tubes ripped through his skin, and he began bleeding out on the floor.

“Help! Someone...please! Dr. Bug! Anyone! Help me!”

The sheriff crawled around on the tiles, dragging and pulling himself across the room, leaving a red snail-trail in his path. He pushed the door open.

“Doctor! Nurse!”

He poked his head out of the room, and looked down both corridors.

“Nothin’ but empty halls…”, he sighed.

Back inside the room, he sat against the wall, feeling his gunshot wound. It was nearly healed.

“Still pretty sore,” he winced, “But almost healed...How long was I asleep for?”

He remembered the freshly made abrasions in both of his arms. Reaching for an idea, he knocked over the room’s trash can and began rifling through what seemed various scraps of bloodied tissues and needles. Among the biohazardous materials, he found a ripe strip of heavily used gauze.

He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately just laughed it off.

“When in Rome…”, he shook his head and smiled.

He only wrapped his right arm in the gauze, as his supply was obviously limited, and made an attempt at standing again.

He grabbed onto the door handle for support, and pulled himself upward until he was on his feet. One step at a time, he walked to the other side of the room to where his clothes had been stacked. 

He changed into his uniform, and went back to his step-by-step process of mobility. He eventually built up a limp as he hobbled his way out the door and down the quiet, empty halls.

“That ain’t normal…”

He continued his way down the corridor to the back exit, the closest way out. 

“Hello? Anyone?”, he called out, in hopes of finding someone to ask what the hell was going on.

He pushed the back doors open, and stepped outside. It was still pretty bright out, and he ventured to guess that it was about 3pm.

There was rustling coming from a nearby clump of large bushes.

“Is someone there?”, the sheriff pivoted towards the greenery.

Crawling and oozing out from under the bushes was none other than the undead corpse of general Robert E. Lee. Well, half of the corpse, that is. Below the waist was nothing but his own spine and intestines dragging along behind him.

The sheriff’s heart dropped.

“Good lord!”, he jumped backwards in fear, not knowing how to process what was in front of him.

He hobbled away into the woods, not daring to look back at what he saw. He traveled as fast as his weakened legs could carry him, until he eventually tripped over a jagged rock, and landed face-first into the dirt. Luckily for him, he had made great distance between him and the clinic. As far as he could tell, he was safe for now.

He propped himself up against the rock, and leaned against it to take a breather. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette from his carton. He inhaled from the tiny paper flute. 

“Yeah...That’s the stuff…”, he sighed, as he leaned his head back.

WHACK!

“I GOT ’EM, DADDY! I GOT ‘EM!”

Above the now incapacitated sheriff stood the hazy image of a bright green, acne-ridden squid holding a piece of rebar.

“No! Rusty! It’s me!...Agh!”

“Silence, zombie!”, he whacked him again.

The sound of flopping tentacles in the distance was audibly getting closer, and so was the familiar voice of Early Cuyler.

“Didja get ‘em, Rusty?! Didja make his eyes pop outta his head?!”

The sheriff coddled the stinging area on the back of his head, and attempted to take another puff of his cigarette.

“You got-damn nitwit!”, Early smacked his son on the back of his neck, “Zombies don’t smoke cig’rettes, boy!”

“Oh…”, Rusty frowned. “Oh, hey! It’s the sheriff! Hey, Sheriff!”, he beamed at the collapsed man.

“Huh…”, the sheriff gathered himself, “Oh, Early! Rusty! Thank God I’ve found you both, I-I don’t know what I coulda done without you…I was so scared..” he squeezed Early and Rusty into a tight hug, crying all over the place.

Early wriggled out of the hug and rolled his eyes, “That’s enough sniffin’ and snottin’, ya pussy.”

After recollecting himself, the sheriff sighed. “Now, do either of you know what the hell is goin’ on out h-”

“HO-LEE-SHIT! HE’S GOT A BITE!”, Rusty pointed in horror at the sheriff’s bloody bandaged arm.

Early’s eyes widened, “He WHAT?!”

“HE’S GOT A- HE’S- HE’S BIT! SHERIFF’S BIT!”, Rusty sputtered.

“WHAT THE HELL’RE YOU WAITIN’ FOR, BOY?! BEAT HIS ASS!”

Rusty charged at the sheriff with the rebar again, and the sheriff flinched and stuttered.

“N-No! No I’m not bit! I’m not! It’s from somethin’ else, I swear! Oh, please don’t hurt me, Rusty!”

“Wait!”, Early said sternly, holding Rusty back, “If your story’s all whatchu make it to be...show us ‘em wounds.”

The sheriff hesitantly removed the bandages from his right arm, showing Early and Rusty the puss-filled abrasion.

Early rubbed his squid chin, “Okay, okay, and what about the bigg’un in the middle right ‘chere”. He pointed to the sheriff’s healing chest cavity.

“Well, that one’s from you, Early”, the sheriff said.

Early squinted, “What’chu mean by that?”

“I mean, you were the one who shot me ‘n gave me this wound here”, he motioned to the scar.

Early thought for a bit, and shook his head. 

“Naw, naw. I don’t think that happened.”

“Remember? When you were robbin’ the convenience store a while back?”

“Hmm...nope. I have no recomollection of that there event.”

“But you were-”

“He says he don’t remember it happenin’, Sheriff.”, Rusty stood up for his old man.

The sheriff stared blankly for a second, and chuckled. 

“Well, okay then, heh heh.”

Long silence.

“So, uh, what’s with the zombies?”

Early shrugged, “‘Bout 4 odd weeks ago the dead started a risin’. Before we knew it, greycoats is roamin’ all over the city. Slimin’ and moanin’ all over the place, rapin’ our churches and burnin’ our womerns. Bitin’ and chewin’ and infectin’ everythang under the sun. Hooooo-ey! It just pisses me off!”, Early cocked his shotgun and glared.

“What’re you two doin’ out here in the middle of all this, anyway?”, the sheriff asked him.

“This ‘chere dumbass lookin’ for his chalky whore womerns and his mixed nut son!”, Early raised his voice as he aggressively poked the chest of Rusty, who looked ashamed.

“I-I’m real worried ‘bout ‘em, daddy. I need to be there for ‘em, to protect ‘em and such”, Rusty rubbed the back of his neck and looked down.

“Hmph! I done told you it’s too late for any uh that! Her hussy ass prolly bein’ pulled apart by the dead right ‘chere as we speak! And the boy too!”, Early scowled.

Rusty’s face contorted into a distressed frown as he visualized Early’s words.

The sheriff put a hand on what would be Rusty’s shoulder, had he not been a squid, and gave him words of reassurance.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Rusty, I’m sure Tammi and Randy are out there somewhere waitin’ for ya. You just gotta keep lookin’, and you’ll find them one way or the other.”

Rusty mustered a smile, and gave the sheriff a nod.

“You finished molesterin’ my son?” Early interrupted. “We ain’t got all day to stand around ‘chere with our thumbs up our asses. C’mon, Rusty”, he began to crawl away. 

“Wait! Where y’all headed?”, the sheriff followed after them.

“We holed up back at the Ballmart”, Early said as he kept crawling. 

The sheriff rubbed his arm, “Would it...be alright if I tagged along with y’all?”

Early stopped and turned around.

“Naw,” he spat on the ground, “Can’t have ya fat ass slowin’ us down. You understand.”

“Well, alright”, the sheriff sighed, “Guess I’ll be headed to the station, then.”

“Uh huh, you go do that”, Early dismissed him.

The sheriff waited until the squids were out of his eyeshot, and began traveling in the opposite direction.

“Slow them down... _pfft_ ,” the sheriff mumbled to himself, “I can take care of my own self, gosh darnit…Which direction was the Ballmart, again?”

Multiple low groans could be heard coming from the center of town. Startled, the sheriff withdrew his pistol. He cut in between an alley in the middle of two buildings in an attempt to get into the streets. 

The view of the streets infested with the walking remains of both undead confederate soldiers and the rotting residents of Dougal County gave him a glimpse of what life had become while he’d been away. 

“Good Lord…”, he gagged.

He looked up at the Dan Halen tower, only to see it’s wreckage. Windows broken, letters missing, the place completely looted.

“Hm. Not even Dan Halen could profit off the apocalypse, wherever he may be, heh” the sheriff chuckled.

He slunk around the exterior of the police station, trying not to be detected by any of the dead. Among the rubble, he found that his patrol car had, by some form of divine intervention, remained fully intact. And hell, he still had the keys on him.

Upon putting the keys in the ignition and adjusting the rear view mirror, he absentmindedly revved up the engine, drawing in the attention of all the surrounding infecteds.

“Damn!”, the sheriff face-palmed at his own foolishness.

He rushed to get the hell out of there, pulling out into a group of rotters, and running a couple over as he peeled off down the street. 

_“Without Early with me, I need to see if there are any other survivors out there”_ , the sheriff thought to himself, flipping on the patrol car’s radio system.

He spoke into the transmitter,

“Uh, broadcasting on Dougal County’s emergency channel, will be approaching Ballmart on 3rd street. Anybody reads, please respond”

Nothing but the crackling silence of the radio.

“Hello?...Hello? Can, uh, can anybody hear my voice?”

He waited.

“Anybody out there? Anybody hears me…..please respond.”

  
  


Somewhere nestled in the North Georgia mountains, a receiver was going off.

_“Can anybody hear my voice?”_

Old Boyd was startled awake as Tammi ran to the radio. She picked it up, speaking into it apprehensively.

“Hey! Hello?”, she waited with baited breath.

_“I repeat, can anybody hear my voice?”_

“Yes, I can hear you! You’re coming through, over.”

Folks began to gather around the exchange.

_“If anybody reads, please respond. Heading towards the Ballmart on 3rd Street”_

“We’re just outside the town.”

The radio crackled, but there was no response.

Tammi spanked the radio, not sure if she was working it correctly.

“Dammit...Hello? Hello?”

She turned to Boyd, “He couldn’t hear me, I couldn’t tell him, I- I-”

Boyd pointed at the radio, “Try to raise him again” 

Tammi bit her lip, and shook her head in confusion.

“Maybe he’s still there? I don’t know, this thing ain’t workin’ right, maybe it’s the signal or-”

“Come on, son. You know best how to work this thing!”, Boyd said, leading Denny to the radio.

Denny swiped the radio from Tammi’s hand, and spoke into it.

“Hello, hello? Is the person who called still on the air?”, he squeaked.

No response.

“This is deputy Denny broadcastin’ to person unknown, please respond.”

Still no response.

Denny waited, but to no avail. He gave Tammi a stern look, before putting the radio down.

“He’s gone.”

The crowd began to gradually dissipate, as everyone went back to what they were previously doing.

“There are others. It’s not just us out here”, she mumbled.

“Well, we knew there would be. _That’s why we left the C.B. on_.”, Denny sassed.

“And a lot a’ good that’s been doin’, huh?”, Tammi snapped.

Denny rolled his eyes as Tammi went on.

“And I’ve been sayin’ for a week we oughta put a couple signs up down the road to let people know we’re here. We need more people to fend off those...  _ things- _ ”

“We haven’t had time”, Denny stood up to leave.

“Well, we need to _make_ time, then! Some of us have children here, for God’s sake. We need to keep them safe!”, Tammi followed.

Denny stopped and turned around, “And that is a luxury we can’t afford.”

Tammi scoffed.

“We are survivin’ here”, he said, nearly slipping as he climbed to stand on top of an expired Desert Storm M.R.E. crate, “We are day to day. We gotta get by with what we got now, like it or not. Ain’t no more laws, no more good people out there, and it ain’t like we got the numbers to be sendin’ folks out left ‘n right. We already sent a group out today.”

Boyd turned to Tammi, “Yeah, and it ain’t like any of us here would be able to go.”

Tammi scowled, “I’d go if one you sons of bitches gave me a god damned vehicle”

“Nuh-uh”, Denny stood face-to-face with Tammi with the help of the crate, “I ain’t gon’ be there to protect you. Nobody goes anywhere alone, and you know that.”

Tammi choked up.

“Oh, _yes sir_ ”, she said, sarcastically. Tight-lipped, she shook her head and pushed past Denny, stomping off to her tent.

“Hey, hold on now, wait up”, Denny frowned, quickly hopping off the crate to follow after her, “You mad at me’r somethin’?”

Tammi ignored him, entering her tent. She crouched down, and began irritably sorting her and Randy’s laundry.

“You can’t just walk off like that,” Denny stepped in, “Like you got some kinda problem with everythin’”

“Screw off, Denny”, she flipped him the bird without turning around.

Denny approached her, “I’m the one who’s been keepin’ y’all safe, and I ain’t about to put you in danger. You could get seriously hurt out there, doll.”

“If that’s what it takes to find Rusty,” her voice trembled, “So be it”

“Look, I know it ain’t easy to hear, but Rusty…”, he put a hand on her shoulder, “He ain’t out there. Not anymore. Goin’ out there by yourself, lookin’ for somethin’ you ain’t never gonna find...”

Tammi turned to listen to him as he continued.

“That ain’t what’s best for you, ain’t what’s best for your boy. He already lost his daddy, ain’t about to lose his momma, too.”

Tammi looked away, “Well…”

“Okay?”, he gave her a wry smile.

She closed her eyes, holding on to the last image of Rusty she had in her head, with the slight fear that if she opened them, she’d forget it. Maybe Denny had a point. The chances of Rusty being alive at the hands of his idiot father were slim enough as it is, and she'd hate to imagine what it would be like trying to survive alongside the rest of his incompetent family. If Rusty were really and truly dead, it would be foolish of her to risk losing her life and leave no one behind to look after Randy.

She gave him a weak shrug, and a half-assed smile, “Alright, then.”

There was a brief silence between them, before Denny leaned in to kiss her. 

“Um, what the hell’re you doin’?”, she pulled back.

“Come on, now. Ain’t like anyone’s gonna see”

Tammi looked at him despondently, before rolling her eyes and giving him a tender kiss on the cheek. He tried kissing her on the mouth again, but she refused.

“I’ll take what I can get”, he giggled.

“Mommy?”, a young voice said, coming from the outside.

Tammi jumped.

“I’m in here, baby!... _Go on, get_ ”, she said, shooing Denny away.

Denny exited the tent as Randy entered with a worried look on his face.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Randy walked up to his mother, who was still on her knees, and hugged her.

“Don’t worry, baby. Your momma ain’t goin’ nowhere, okay?”, she nodded at him, and Randy giggled and nodded at her too.

“Okay”, he smiled.

Tammi kissed his forehead, “Now go on back to playin’”.

  
  
  


Back in town, the trim of the sheriff’s car began accumulating weight, as zombies began piling on top of one another, hanging off of the bumper, and soon crawling on top of the roof.

He swerved the vehicle, trying to shake them off, but they just didn’t give. The sheriff hit the brakes hard, sending a couple clingers flying out in front of him. He used this as a chance to get away from the car, doing his best to escape on foot before the remaining few could catch up to him. He made a reasonable distance, considering his state of self, but found that there were even more dead ones waiting for him in the direction he was headed. 

Among the torn-apart city, it was visible that at some point the U.S. Army had intervened, as tanks and empty military vehicles were strewn about the streets. The sheriff took note of one tank in particular, that had been open and abandoned in the middle of the street.

He made a beeline for it, crawling in through the hatch at the top, and slamming it shut after him. As he clung onto the handle that kept the hatch closed, he could hear the dead climbing after him, scratching the metal on top of the tank, and surrounding the area around it. The sound of moans and hisses filling his sense of awareness. His heart raced, and he nearly shit himself, that is, until he heard a voice in the distance.

A nasally, shrill voice.

“DINNER BELLLLLS!”, it called attention to itself, followed by repeated clanging sounds.

Sequentially, the groans surrounding the tank began to fade as the monsters’ attention shifted elsewhere.

“Whew. Thank God, and thank whoever the hell that was”, the sheriff sighed.

Then he heard a groan, but not from the outside.

He turned around, and saw that at the other end of the tank lay the infected cadaver of a soldier beginning to wake.

The sheriff let go of the handle, falling backwards and scooting away.

Like a saving grace, the hatch opened up above him as a light lavender colored tentacle came down, and that same wretched voice said, “Come with me if you wanna live, dumbass!”


End file.
